


You were good to me

by Anjinhos7



Series: 2 girls in love [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst, Bad Ending, Break Up, F/F, Sad Ending, Useless Lesbians
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:35:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27492034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anjinhos7/pseuds/Anjinhos7
Summary: Marianne has loved for too long. It chipped away her soul one piece at a time until she only existed as the shell of who she desired to be.The end of a relationship, the end of a friendship, the end of the story of 2 girls in love that wanted nothing more than a little comfort.Julie doesn't want to end it that way.
Relationships: Marianne/Julie
Series: 2 girls in love [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2009065





	You were good to me

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [You were good to me](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/711799) by Jeremy Zucker and Chelsea Cutler. 



> This text was inspired by Jeremy Zucker's and Chelsea Cutler's song "You were good to me".  
> It's supposed to be something I vomited out after listening to it like thousand times over...  
> An angsty one-shot about 2 girls falling out of love

Her hand brushed past my cheek, as soft as a feather, barely touching yet burning like a hot iron on my skin. The breeze flies by us and it feels like time has stopped. I know her. Her expression. Her love. Her body, every nook, and cranny. All of her.  
But I don’t know that smile. My eyes dance around her face, taking in this new side, the tilt of her head, the hair pulled back in an unfamiliar ponytail, her mouth uncharacteristically quiet, hiding the teeth that usually shine through when she laughs. It’s strange: I am afraid.   
My eyes follow her as she turns away from me, as her hand falls and disappears, as the heat finally dies down. And I feel it coming. The answer to why she’s like this. To why I’m still not hearing her voice as she joins me on a trip across the park- why I’ve been suffocating for the past week.  
It’s ending. Me. Her. Us. We are. And I know it, yet why do I still look for an answer. An unvoiced question that lingers in the air as tears gather in my eyes. She doesn’t look at me, or at my eyes, guilt most probably. I shake my head softly and my hair shakes with it. I know she knows. She still won’t look at me.  
Bitterness overwhelms me and I clench my jaw. Anger ignites behind my mind as memories flash through my eyes. For the years I lost. For what I lost: the love, the time. We.  
My hands curl around themselves and my nails dig into my flesh. I try to pretend it’s a dream or a mistake, but my mind wrestles with itself- I will not be willful, or try to deny, or be dumb or clingy like others. It tells me I’m unique and worthy of love. And yet I don’t want someone else’s love- I want Hers.  
The wind makes that sound that I like so much and I don’t react. It feels new and unfamiliar. Liking something and then not liking anymore like an overplayed song that is on loop. It feels like torture, but you can’t stop because that is the only music that makes you feel like you, because it’s the only music you’ve heard for years.  
Those thoughts race through my head as I scramble for something. A course of action. A word. Anything.   
_I’m sorry.

____

She searches me. Her eyes move, looking at this new expression I’m so sure she has never seen. My eyes search her too. It’s like a dance of expression in which both of us try to look for something on the other. It’s hard. No one ever really knows what they’re searching for until they’ve convinced themselves they know what it is, or they’ve actually understood what they’re looking at. The former being more common than the latter in these situations.  
My hand slowly makes its way to her face, hovering over her expression. She looks like an abandoned puppy. Well, she always has but, it never felt this real, this emotional. I might really lose her. Reality sinks in. I hesitate. She notices.  
I turn away and think about what I might say. It’s quiet and I realize it’s because it’s me who usually talks. One might say I feel bitter about how this has become. To how I lost so much for a relationship that was doomed to fail since the start. Since the fire was set and left alone without new wood for months, a metaphor I now connect with greatly. My fingers find the hem of my t-shirt and start folding them, feeling the pull as it untangles under their tips and the silent thud it does when a fold is unfolded. No calmness awaits me, but my mind does clear as I hear the tell-tale whoosh of her curls- the shaking of her head.  
It’s strange: I’m afraid. I’ve known her for so long. She is common, she is comfortable, she has become home. And yet I want to leave that for the metaphorical sea. The new, dangerous, lonely, but not really. She’s mad and yet I don’t care as much as I would have a month ago. I might’ve still pretended. Pretended that I cared. Still held her hand, let her spill her problems and solve them for her. I liked that. The feeling of being relied on, it made me feel powerful like I had control over someone’s life. After much thought, it occurred to me that it is not healthy or normal. I’m trying.  
Then I hear her voice. It’s scratchy.   
_I’m sorry.  
My chest tightens as I realize I know she is bottling her feelings up, she is trying not to cry as she usually did when we argued. Words escape my mouth before I even know how to respond.  
_I know.  
My eyes find hers as we face each other. Our hands entertain and we hold them with tension and fear coursing through our veins.  
_You were good to me. 

_But I don’t wanna be alone.

_You were good to me. You’ll see that I’m sorry. Cause you were good to me.

Tears drip and I continue. My hands tightening around hers as my apology flows. I don’t think about her red eyes, or her shaking, or her sudden force on my hands as if she is trying to hold herself up.  
I just sing.


End file.
